Maybe One Day
by Midnight Ryder
Summary: Dean wants more for Sam. More than he can give him. Dean/Sam


**Summary****: Dean wants more for Sam. More than he can give him. Dean/Sam**

**Warnings****: Strong slash undertones and mild slash action.**

**Disclaimer****: The boys are only mine in my own imagination. Otherwise, I guess Warner Bros. can have them. Meanies. **

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Blood pumped through his veins; his pulse was racing. Panic was starting to sink down into his stomach. The one and only job that he was entrusted with was to watch over Sammy and to keep him safe, and he failed this time.

Dad had specifically given him orders to stay in the motel room and to not leave for any reason. It was Dean's job to look after Sammy. Dad had left them enough provisions to last for several weeks.

That had worried Dean in itself.

After several days the air of the motel room began to suffocate the young teens of 18 and 14 years. The taste of chips and cereal began to turn their stomachs, and after studying every nook and corner of the room the walls began to enclose on them. It was the eighth day since dad had left them for a job and needless to say they were getting restless.

Dean was laying across the floor occasionally throwing a ball against the wall and catching it in his hand.

He looked at his little brother Sammy who was sitting on the edge of his bed mindlessly staring at the television set, watching some yawn-instilling show on one of the two local channels that they received. He could have sworn that he saw drool slowly running down the boy's chin.

Dean laughed and threw the ball at him, "Think fast, Sammy!"

Sam jumped as he dodged the ball coming his way. "What was that for?" He complained.

Dean was laughing even harder at the expression on Sammy's face. So hard he couldn't speak.

"What?" Sam asked bemusedly.

"You're such a bitch, Sammy," Dean smiled.

"I am not!" Sam pouted.

"I'm older, and I say you are." Dean smirked.

"Well…well, you're a jerk."

"Ouch, Sammy."

"Shut up!" Sam threw the remote and rolled over onto his side on the bed, facing away from Dean.

Dean sat up and went to sit next to his little brother. "What's wrong?" he asked as he poked Sam's shoulder.

No answer.

"Sammy, I knew it wasn't gonna hit you. I was just trying to kill the boredom."

No answer.

"Come on, Sam, what is it?" Dean frowned.

Sam suddenly sat up and faced Dean. "I'm sick of spending day and night in motel rooms. Why can't we be like other normal kids and always go to school and hang outside whenever we want?" Sam demanded, "and dad's never been gone this long. When is he coming back?"

Dean wasn't expecting this outburst.

"Dad will be back anytime now, and when he does we can go out and play some ball, okay? I'm sorry we're stuck in here, but I'm trying to make the best of it."

"I don't wanna stay in here anymore, Dean, let's go out and get some real food or something. Dad won't find out." Sam pouted again.

"We can't"

"Why?"

"Because Dad said so."

"So? Why do you always listen to him?"

"Because he's dad."

"Well I don't care. I'm going out and you can't stop me." Sam said as he got up and walked towards the door.

Dean jumped off the bed and grabbed Sam's arm. "Sam, no, you have to stay here."

"Don't touch me, Dean! Leave me alone!" Sam spat pulling away and reaching for the door.

Dean grabbed him again and wedged himself between the door and his irate brother, "No, Sam. Dad wouldn't have told us to stay inside if there wasn't a reason."

"Just move Dean." Sam glared,

"No, dad will kill me. I have to watch you."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dean, and I don't need you to watch me! I can take care of myself!" Sam yelled.

"Yea okay, Sammy, we're still staying here."

"You can't boss me around anymore! Go away, Dean, I hate you!" Sam pounded on his chest.

Dean oddly felt a pain in his chest and it wasn't from Sam's fists. He looked at his little brother that wasn't so little anymore. He stood only about one inch shorter than Dean and the anger in his eyes didn't seem so childish. Dean put his hands up in the air, "Fine. Do what you want," and went over to the bed and flipped to the second channel on the television.

Sam stood there in front of the door, shocked at the words that had come out of his mouth and at how they worked. He had only said them in exasperation at the fact that he knew Dean wouldn't let him get some fresh air no matter what.

Dean didn't look up as he heard the door click.

He came to his senses in about fifteen minutes after his responsibility won out over his pride. He turned the television off and grabbed his jacket, going to find Sam.

He didn't know that it had snowed. Dean pulled his jacket closer to his body as he shivered. He remembered that Sam hadn't bothered to wear one himself and he felt a little knot twist in his stomach for his lapse of stupidity.

He walked around the motel and couldn't find Sam. Maybe he was at the diner across the street. He quickly crossed the road and dodged the snow as he burst into the restaurant. A pretty blonde girl smiled at him and asked him whether he preferred a booth or table.

He ignored her as he walked further in to look for his brother.

No Sam.

Now Dean was standing outside of the diner full out panicking. How could he let him out of his sight? What if something happened to him—Dad wouldn't have commanded them to stay indoors if there wasn't something dangerous around.

Oh God.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled.

The only sound he could hear was of a radio far off in the distance playing some sickening country song. Dean called out again, "Sam, where are you!"

He felt his heart rise into his throat as he briskly walked down the dark road in search of his brother. "SAM!" he yelled.

Still, the only sound was of the radio that was getting nearer as Dean walked passed some alley by a Hardware store. Dean stopped in his tracks when he heard a grisly voice, "What's wrong boy, don't you like country?"

He heard a loud metallic thud.

Dean didn't even hesitate as he ran towards the sound. He saw some trashcans knocked over, and a larger silhouette of a man pinning a smaller person to the brick wall. "It doesn't matter what you like, boy, you're tight body is all the same."

The smaller person cried out until it was choked off by the mans hands.

"Sammy," Dean breathed. Fear and anger colored his vision red as he charged towards the man and knocked him down to the ground. He punched him in the jaw and heard a crack (whether it was the man's jaw or his knuckles he didn't know) and slammed his head onto the trash can. "That was for touching my little brother!" he screamed.

The man was caught off guard and feebly tried to fight back but hell hath no fury like a protective Dean Winchester. He punched the man over and over again, "And that was for even _thinking _about it!" he spat as he kneed him in the groin.

The man was writhing on the ground whimpering like a dog. "Stop, please, I'm sorry!"

"Damn right you're sorry you son of a bitch!" Dean hissed as he slammed the man's head against the brick wall and knocked him out. He sat back on his knees, breathing hard as he looked up at his terrified little brother. "Are you alright, Sammy?"

Sam nodded with wide eyes.

"Let's go back to the room." Dean said. They both stood up and abandoned the man in the alley.

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Dean was sitting in a chair staring out of the motel window, and Sam was sitting on the bed staring at his shoes. There was a long silence between them until Sam finally spoke up, " I'm sorry Dean, you were right." he said softly, still looking down,

Dean didn't say anything.

"Dean?" Sam frowned.

His older brother looked over to him with a strange expression on his face. He stared at Sam for several minutes.

"Dean, I said I'm sorry, don't be mad at me I won't do it again." Sam said in a small voice.

Dean closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. "Sam, I don't know what I would have done if I found you…found you after…" his voice broke.

Sam looked up at his brother, a lump in his throat.

"What I would've done…" Dean continued, "what dad would've done…I'm so sorry, Sammy."

"Dean…"

"No, Sam, I could've stopped you. You're my little brother…you're my responsibility." Dean said shortly.

Sam looked away, tears welling in his eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't think anything was going to happen."

"That's just it, Sam, you didn't think!" Dean said hoarsely.

"Sorry to have burdened you. Next time just leave me out there." Sam whispered, a small tear escaping his eyes.

"There won't be a next time, Sammy, whether you hate me for it or not," Dean said in a softer voice as he walked over to sit next to his brother on the bed, "you're my baby brother—not a burden. If anything would've happened to you…" his voice broke off again. He lifted Sam's chin to look into his eyes. "No, nothing will ever happen to you. Not as long as I'm around," Dean choked as he grabbed the smaller teen in a death grip.

Sam didn't protest at the fact that his air supply was being blocked off because his big brother's arms made him feel safer than any dead bolted motel room he had ever been shut away in. The scene in the alley way kept replaying over and over in his head—the blow to the head as the man dragged him between the buildings, the sickening way the bastard manhandled him and told him exactly what he was going to do to him…—none of it mattered right now as long as he was safe within Dean's embrace.

Sam had been in danger before but this time was different somehow. Dean had never become this freaked out; he was never the affectionate type prone to hugs and soul bearing moments. Sam was afraid that the moment Dean let go, he would never be granted another chance to be this close to his brother.

But Dean wasn't letting go.

Sam managed to free one of his arms as he lifted his face from Dean's shoulder to look into his emerald depths and cautiously brushed away a single tear that had formed there. They both were shocked by the small movement. Sam's heart was pounding as he let his hand continue to caress his cheek as his fingers moved to entwine in his hair.

Dean's breath hitched, "Sammy what are you doing?"

All Sam could think about was the love and protection that his brother always gave him—the way he watched out for him in a world where no one else would. How could he trust anyone else?

Still, in his brother's now cautious embrace, Sam moved from Dean's side to straddle his lap. Dean's eyes grew even wider and he started to lower his arms. Sam's heart skipped a beat—it was now or never.

He grabbed Dean's face with his free hand and buried the other farther into his hair as he leaned forward to kiss a set of shocked full lips.

Two seconds…five seconds…

Sam lost his nerve at the unresponsiveness of his older brother and pulled away from his face to observe his reaction. He didn't get the chance, though, because Dean had quickly slid from underneath him and bolted to the window, his back to him.

Sam felt his heart being torn into tiny shreds.

After a few more moments of eternity, Sam couldn't take it anymore and went over to stand behind Dean. He put a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Dean…"

Dean finally turned around to face him.

Sam was expecting disgust or hatred to reflect from Dean's eyes but what he saw there might have scared him more than the alternative. Sam's heart rose into his throat when he saw a torn mixture of love and sheer hunger emanating with green fire.

Sam felt the fire run through his whole body and coil tightly in his abdomen. How many minutes had passed? Days? Years? All the while Sam was almost positive that his heart had stopped.

"Sammy, you shouldn't have done that," Dean groaned as he took a small step toward his younger brother. Dean lowered his face to Sam's and kissed him with all the love and hunger that had shone in his gaze.

"Are you sure you want this?" Dean asked breaking away from the kiss as his resolve slowly broke. He didn't want to make him do anything that he didn't want to do—especially after what had happened tonight.

Sam responded by tilting his head to suck on Dean's neck. Dean let out a growl and took Sam in his arms, turning them to pin him against the wall. He pressed his body so tight against Sam's and it just felt so wrong that it was right.

Sam ran his hands down Dean's back and dipped them under his shirt to run up the lengths of his sides. Dean bucked his hips against the smaller boy grinding him into the wall, running his hands down Sam's stomach and then taking to loosening his belt, eliciting a small whimper from his younger brother.

_He saw some trashcans knocked over, and a larger silhouette of a man pinning a smaller person to the brick wall. "It doesn't matter what you like, boy, you're tight body is all the same."_

The scene from earlier flashed through Dean's eyes and he felt bile rise up in his throat.

_The smaller person cried out until it was choked off by the man's hands._

Dean pulled his hands away from the heavenly sin that could only be described as his Sammy. He felt his heart rip in two at the expression of complete hurt and vulnerability in his brother's eyes.

Dean had put that pain there.

Sam took a step toward him and opened his mouth to speak, but Dean simply took another step backwards, the action cutting off anything that Sam had to say.

Dean knew that if they went through with this that there was no going back to brothers—no going back to normal. He felt pressure behind his eyes as he stared at his little brother. Almost six feet tall, yes, but his baby smooth skin and wide green eyes that were slightly hidden by his long dark fringe still spoke of the innocence that was there.

Dean wouldn't—couldn't take that innocence away.

And he would not take away any shot at a normal life from him. Sammy deserved more than stolen moments away from their father and a lifetime of secrets and maybe one day even shame.

He wanted more for him.

He knew that Sammy would hate him for a while, but it was for the best. He would realize that he could do so much better than Dean, and hopefully one day go on to lead a life with a family, a normal career, and a home.

Dean turned away from his little brother before he could see how Dean really felt.

"I can't do this, Sammy," managed to say.

"But, Dean, it's okay I want this. I want you," Sam whispered taking another step forward.

It was all Dean could do to keep his voice under control as the first tear escaped his closed eyes, "I don't, Sam. I don't want this." He couldn't bear to face his brother to see the effect of his words. He walked over to the motel door and before he knew it, it was clicking softly behind him.

_I don't want this for you, Sammy…_

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The day finally came. Dean watched with his heart in his throat as Sam briskly threw his possessions into his suitcase. There was a strained look of determination on his little brother's face.

Sam was leaving for Stanford.

This was what Dean wanted, right? Then why did it feel like Sam had ripped his heart out of his chest and had thrown it in his suitcase along with his other possessions?

A little over three years had passed since their encounter. Eventually they had returned to their normal brotherly banter, but things were never the same. Every once in a while the other would catch a long gaze of sorrow from the other.

It still hurt so fucking much.

Things would be better when Sam went off to his new life. Sam would forget. Dean would let go. Maybe one day they could be in each other's lives again without a constant strain of regret.

Sam had finished packing and hesitated at the door to look back at his older brother. Looking for any reason to stay. Dean was sitting on the bed staring at his hands.

"Later, Sammy."

"Yeah…goodbye, Dean," Sam said softly as he walked out the door.

_Maybe one day…_

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**A/N: Angst was inevitable after my latest happy ending in BMV. Read and review…it might inspire me to continue this with an after Stanford story…hmm…**

~ **Midnight Ryder**


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